


More to Life

by takemetofantasyland



Category: Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: A series of one shots, Canon Compliant, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:28:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22827172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takemetofantasyland/pseuds/takemetofantasyland
Summary: "There has to be more to life than just surviving it," Anya said softly."Once upon a time, maybe," Dmitry mused.—————A collection of one-shots set in canon verse.Notes at the beginning of each chapter.
Relationships: Dimitri | Dmitry/Anya | Anastasia Romanov (Anastasia 1997 & Broadway)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 74





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Anya attempts to give Dmitry french lessons. Dmitry has decided he'd rather study something else.

“Let’s try this again,” Anya said softly as she flipped back to the beginning of the chapter her thumb was holding place of in her book. 

Dmitry groaned and rolled his head back as Anya sat with him on the chaise in their apartment, her legs stretched over his lap. 

Anya sat up and gently ran her fingers through his hair. He was always so dramatic. The way he groaned you would have thought she had asked him to walk halfway across Russia. She leaned into his ear, “you made me do months of princess training I think you can handle this.”

He rolled his eyes. She was never going to let that go. “Yes, but the princess lessons were necessary, these French lessons are not,” he pointed out. 

“They  _ are _ necessary,” Anya retorted. “I’m tired of reading everything to you because you don’t want to learn.”

“Do I not want to learn? I don’t think I’ve ever said that,” Dmitry teased as his hand wrapped around her thigh and pulled her legs closer. “When a pretty girl is translating everything for you, it’s just hard to say no. You of all people should know you don’t bite a hand that feeds you.” 

Anya’s nose scrunched as she frowned and she reached up and pushed his face away. She opened her book on her lap. 

Dmitry grinned at her. He knew it was irresponsible of him to let Vlad and Anya do most of the translating work. Anya had come up with the  _ brilliant _ idea of giving him French lessons, and as much as he was opposed to learning the language aristocrats spoke, he knew if France was going to be a permanent place for them he should at least give the language a valiant effort. 

“Bonjour, comment-allez vous?” Anya pronounced clearly. She glanced down at the book in her lap, her finger tracing a sentence. 

Dmitry laughed as the sweet words rolled off her tongue. 

“Hey, are you listening?” Anya asked as she poked him in the ribs with her stocking-foot toe. " What did I just say?” 

“I don’t know,” his signature smirk crossed his face. He was more interested in playing with the fingers on her free hand. 

“Dima, you have to try,” Anya let out an exasperated sigh. “Comment-allez vous? That’s hello, how are you?”

Dmitry nodded and shrugged. 

“Say it with me,” Anya said softly. 

“Comment-allez vous?” Dmitry repeated with her. He laced his fingers between hers. 

“Good,” Anya said softly as she stroked the back of his hand with her thumb. “Although, pronunciation could use some work.”

Dmitry scoffed and shook his head. 

“Voulez-vous parler français?” Anya muttered as she flipped through the pages in her book. 

“Voulez-vous-” Dmitry began. The rough bite of Russian in his tongue made the words sound harsh.

Anya’s eyes flicked up to look at him. 

“What was that, again? Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?” Dmitry asked. He had a smug grin wiped across his face. 

“Dima!” Anya gasped. She retracted her legs and tried to push him away as she sat up on the chaise. 

Dmitry caught her legs and pulled her closer. 

She let out a small yelp as he gripped her waist and gently laid her on her back. 

He leaned over her, his face inches from hers. “I bet you thought I wasn’t picking anything up along the way?” His voice was low and rough. 

“I can’t believe you’re trying to kiss me with that dirty mouth of yours!” Anya breathed beneath him. She clasped her hand over his mouth and bit her lip. 

Dmitry playfully stuck his tongue out enough to touch her hand, and she yelped and pulled her hand away, wiping it on her skirt. 

He leaned down and kissed her cheek as Anya dropped her book to the floor beside them. 

“This is not what I meant when I said you needed French lessons!” Anya protested. “I’m going to give Vlad a piece of my mind for teaching you naughty phrases!”

“Wouldn’t say this is all Vlad’s fault,” Dmitry replied as he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. 

His lips tasted of a sweet familiarity only he could satisfy. Anya groaned beneath him and pulled away. “You’re supposed to be learning,” Anya said sternly. 

“I am learning,” Dmitry grinned with pride. “They say the best way to learn a language is to immerse yourself in the culture.”

“You’re insufferable,” Anya sighed. She laced her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled him down for another kiss. 

He firmly gripped her leg as he kissed her and felt Anya melt into his touch. She was never mad at him for too long. 

As he gently traced her lip, she reached up to grasp his jaw, a desperate groan escaping her lips. 

He pulled back, if only to catch his breath. Dmitry grinned as he watched Anya’s lip turn into a smile and her chest heaved beneath him. 

He leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Je suis fou de toi.”

A blush spread over Anya’s cheeks as she reached up and traced the dimple in his cheek. 

“Where did you learn all this?” Anya asked softly. “You’ve certainly never taken any interest in this before.”

“Not from your boring books, that’s for sure,” Dmitry teased. 

“They’re not boring!” Anya frowned. 

“You learn most when playing a fool, Anyok. I merely asked Lily to translate a few phrases I had heard at the bar with Vlad.” Dmitry beamed with pride. 

Anya could only imagine the look on poor Vlad’s face while Dmitry tormented him with an interrogation from Lily. 

“I’m trying to do honest work teaching the language to you, and Vlad and Lily are secretly filling your mouth with filth!” Anya gasped. 

“You say that like you’re pure of heart, Princess” Dmitry quipped, his eyes dark. He leaned into her and pressed his lips to hers. 

Anya adjusted herself beneath him and shook her head as her eyes narrowed. 

“What are we going to do with you, Dmitry Sudayev?” Anya clicked her tongue as she brushed his floppy hair out of his eyes. 

“You could start by answering my question,” Dmitry smirked. “You’re a terrible teacher, you know.”

“You’re a terrible student—a troublemaker, I’d say,” Anya replied. “And I’m not going to answer your question.”

“Perhaps I will need to be more… persistent,” Dmitry replied. 

Anya hummed as she sat up to kiss him, “The Prince of Petersburg was always quite persistent.”

“I’d hate to lose the reputation, your highness,” he said softly. 

She wrapped her legs around his waist and he picked her up and carried her—and the boring French book—with him. He figured there were other ways to learn French. He’d just have to coax the language out of Anya in a way he found more interesting. 


	2. Afternoon Nap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-canon. Anya struggles with her nightmares. Dmitry thinks he's found a solution. Lots of soft Dimya.

Dmitry came home in the afternoon with several parcels in hand from running errands around the city. He balanced a few packages as he shut the door. Luckily, he had dropped off a couple from errands he had done for Lily on his way back to the flat. 

He dropped the parcels on the table in the living room. The room was still and oddly quiet, when he knew Anya should have been home. 

As he looked around the room for any sign of her, his heart began to race. He backtracked and tried to remember if she had mentioned she was going to visit her grandmother today. 

Dmitry shrugged off his coat and hung it up, and headed for their bedroom. He gently pushed the door open as he held his breath. If she wasn’t in here, he had no idea where she was. 

The room was still and looked as though it had barely been touched since he had left. He exhaled and told himself not to panic as he felt a pit in his stomach. 

And then out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of strawberry blonde hair peeking out from behind the curtain. 

Anya was sitting in the nook of the window sill, her eyes glued to the city below. Her eyelids were heavy as her solemn face was still and lifeless. 

“Anya,” he said softly. He gently pulled the curtain back to reveal where she had hidden herself. 

She didn’t move. It was as if he wasn’t there at all. 

They had a difficult night the night before. Anya had woken up three times from nightmares and tossed and turned in her sleep more than usual. 

It was still so clear in his memory how she had looked at him in the dark of night tears streaming down her cheeks, and she cried into his chest as he ran his fingers through her hair and rubbed her back. 

“When will it stop, Dmitry?” She pleaded as she cried into his chest after she had startled herself awake for the third time that night. “When will I be able to sleep through the night?”

He had bitten his lip to keep himself from crying. He had always had an answer for everything—except this. These nightmares tortured her mind and he had never felt so helpless. All he could do was hold her through the night, and even then it wasn’t enough. 

Anya looked exhausted as she stared out the window. 

“Anya,” Dmitry said softly. 

He approached her from behind and pressed a kiss into her hair. 

She slowly turned to look at him. Her face was pale and lifeless, and she was beginning to look ill. 

“Hey,” he said softly. “Come here.” He touched her arm and carefully led her away from the window. 

She turned over her shoulder to look back as he led her into the center of the room. 

Anya turned to look at him and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against his chest. 

He ran his fingers through her hair, carefully pulling out the tangles as he got to the ends. If there was one thing he had learned in a few short months, it was that her nightmares seemed to subside in the day. 

“Wait right here,” he said quickly. “I got you something.”

Anya nodded as she rubbed her eye to wake herself up. 

Dmitry returned with a small box and handed it to her. 

Anya looked up at him with a small smile as she slid the lid off the box. A small half dozen macarons were inside, from her favorite bakery on the Seine. 

“Dima, you didn’t have to do this,” Anya said softly. Her voice was just above a whisper. 

“I know,” he replied. He felt a pain in his chest. She always insisted he never had to do anything for her. But he loved her so much it was never a chore or a task, always done with his heart. “I wanted to.” 

Anya smiled as she looked down at the box, gold lettering embossed on the top. 

Dmitry took her hand and led her to their bed. He let go and plunged into the mess of blankets and pillows, making himself comfortable. He looked back at her as she lingered at the edge of the bed.

Hesitation froze her feet and she looked at him and then looked at the box in her hand. 

Dmitry reached his hand out and she handed him the box. He held it tightly as she looked at the spread of blankets and pillows beside him. She squeezed her eyes shut and sat on the bed beside him. Anya pulled herself across the bed and settled next to Dmitry. 

He settled into the bed and wrapped his arm around her as he held the box of macarons in his lap. 

“Care for one?” He asked as he pulled the lid off the box and offered it to her. 

She smiled shyly and carefully pulled one out of the box. She bit into the macaron, looking at him as she held a hand to her mouth to catch the crumbs. 

His lips turned into a smirk. There was a shade of her usual self in this exhausted body of hers. 

He knew Anya was starting to get anxious every time they had to fall asleep. Lately, he did his best to counteract the negative experiences with positive ones. 

Anya pulled a second macaron from the box and held it up to his lips as his arm lazily wrapped around her waist.

“These are for you,” he laughed as he politely declined her offer and gently pushed her hand away. 

“I know,” she said through chewing her own. “I want you to have one too.”

He smiled and bit into the macaron as she held it up to his lips again. The little smile she had after being satisfied that he had accepted her offer reminded him how he had fallen in love with her in the first place. 

She snuck another macaron from the box and set the box on the nightstand next to her side of the bed. 

Anya took a bite of the macaron and held up the rest to Dmitry. He laughed and ate the rest without a word. 

“They taste better when you share them,” Anya said softly. 

He nodded in agreement and she wiped a crumb from his lip and kissed his cheek. 

Dmitry smiled as he swallowed. 

Anya curled up beside him and rested her head on his chest. She traced her finger on his chest, her eyes heavy.

Dmitry kissed her forehead. He slowed his breathing as she listened to his chest. 

Her breathing slowed to match his, and her eyelids slowly closed. 

Dmitry wished he could take pride in helping her fall asleep, but he knew it was more likely her exhaustion had won out instead. He rubbed her back as her breathing became rhythmic, hoping this time she would stay asleep. 

With his free hand, he pulled the blankets over her, making her as comfortable as possible. He pressed a kiss to her forehead once he was sure she was asleep. 

He stared at the ceiling, keeping his breath slow and in sync with hers while she slept. 

Her arm lazily gripped his waist as he laid on his back. He smiled as he felt her legs tangle with his as she tried to find comfort in her sleep. 

He had tried everything he could think of to help her sleep through the night. Little afternoon naps seemed to be the only thing that helped. 

Her brow knit in her sleep and he held his breath. 

And then her face softened and he gently rubbed her arm and stroked his fingers through her hair. 

Dmitry had been so worried about her, he hadn’t realized how exhausted he was himself. He did his best not to let it show. He knew Anya felt guilty that her nightmares woke him up and he didn’t want her to worry about him. 

He didn’t know how to quietly confess that it wasn’t the nightmares themselves that concerned him, it was the fact she had to wrestle with something he had no ability to ease for her. 

When she seemed to be in a deep enough sleep, he closed his eyes beside her, keeping a rhythm to his breathing. He pulled Anya close so she felt safe and protected. A small piece of him hoped by holding her safe, he could protect her from her nightmares too. 

He gently dozed off after he felt she was going to be alright. 

Dmitry woke as the sun was setting and the light of dusk peered through the curtains. Several hours must have passed and Anya was still in a deep sleep beside him. 

He was careful not to wake her as he remained still beside her. His lips curled into a smile as he looked down at her as she was sleeping. She needed it. He wanted nothing more for her than to let her rest peacefully. 

He was still groggy but kept a hand on her back. She stirred slightly pulling herself impossibly closer to him. 

He felt a weight lifted from him, knowing she was getting the rest she so desperately needed. 

Anya slowly woke and drew a hand to her face to rub the sleep away. She looked up at Dmitry. 

“Hey,” he said softly. 

Anya tucked her face into his chest as she laced her fingers through his and squeezed his hand. 

He laughed and gently ran his fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her eyes and tucking it behind her ear. 

Dmitry pressed a kiss to the top of her head and felt her smile. She looked up at him, a glow returning to her cheeks and eyes that had been extinguished for weeks. 

She pressed a kiss to the back of his hand. Refreshed after a few hours of sleep, and waking up on her own accord, Anya propped herself up and ran her fingers through Dmitry’s hair. It was messy from his own nap, and she smiled as she used her fingers to comb his hair back into place. 

When she was thoroughly satisfied with fixing his hair, she leaned down and kissed him. 

Dmitry smiled against her lips and gently used his thumb to wipe drool off the corner of her mouth. 

She smiled as her cheeks flushed. 

He kissed her again to tell her he didn’t care. He was just relieved that her mind had calmed enough to let her rest. 

She was brighter and there was a fire in her eyes again. He knew a couple hours of sleep wouldn’t compare to sleeping through the night, but she was several shades closer to returning to her usual self. 

Anya turned on her side so she could look up and admire him. 

He looked down at her and his brow arched.

She smiled and traced his jaw with her finger. 

“Sleep well?” He whispered. 

She nodded as she looked at him. 

“Good,” he breathed as he exhaled a sigh of relief. 

She rested her head back on his chest to pause and savor the moment of peace. 

He held her close, it was all he could do, and this time it seemed to be enough. 


	3. An Illusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little thought that came to mind. Post-canon. 
> 
> Sometimes writing a little one shot helps calm my mind. I hope you're all staying safe and healthy, too. <3

There was something that would never quite be familiar about having his hair combed neatly and his shoulders squared off in a fresh-pressed suit. As he looked at his own reflection in an ornate mirror in an elegant parisian flat he didn’t recognize himself. It felt like looking at into an illusion. 

He could pinch himself, but he didn’t want to risk the off chance that it was a dream. 

“I think Dmitry is getting tired,” a low and sweet voice grounded him and he snapped back as he turned to look over his shoulder. 

Anya stood across the sitting room, wringing her hands as she bid Lily goodnight. 

For a girl who had spent nearly ten years of her life feral and fending for herself, Anya had grace he could only aspire to. He had always teased her that she sat like a queen, but she had a regal composure that didn’t come from suddenly finding your lost royal family. 

She was calm and diplomatic, beautiful as always, dressed for this evening in a tailored silk dress with her hair twisted into a chignon. She was a queen of her own kind—at least to him. Tonight, she was a shadow of the woman who had stumbled into his life by fate, and his lip turned into a weary smile. 

His attention was not required at the moment by either of them as Lily fawned over Anya and whispered in her ear, making Anya blush. He turned and caught Vlad’s gaze as Vlad nursed another glass of vodka. Dmitry shook his head at his old friend, and Vlad only raised his glass in response. 

“Have a good night, Darling,” Lily squeezed Anya’s hand. 

Anya nodded and kissed Lily’s cheek. Vlad gently took her hand and gave it a squeeze. Anya smiled as she turned on her heel, “we’ll see you soon! Goodnight!” 

She approached Dmitry and laced her hands around his arm to give it a squeeze as she looked up at him.

“Goodnight, Lily,” Dmitry nodded to her. He waved to Vlad by her side as he walked out of the elegant flat with Anya. 

As soon as the door shut behind them, Anya let out a sigh and her shoulders dropped. 

“I thought you liked visiting with Lily?” Dmitry whispered in her ear as they walked down the stairs. 

“I do,” Anya replied as she tightened her grip on his arm. “But I don’t know how anyone enjoys that high society lifestyle all the time. Frankly, it’s exhausting.”

There was the girl he knew. 

His lip tugged into a smirk as they walked and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. 

Anya paused for a moment and gently pulled away from his arm, taking his overcoat off his arm with her. 

Dmitry smiled as she paused and pulled his coat around her shoulders to avoid the chill of the night air. He knew she purposefully didn’t bring a coat so she could borrow his coat on the walk home. He truthfully didn’t need it, his suit coat was enough, but he brought it for her for the walk home anyway. 

He walked with her across the Pont Alexandre III on the way back to the flat they shared. He would never get used to the look in Anya’s eyes as they walked across the bridge. No matter how many times they walked this way, tears still pricked in the corners of her eyes each time they crossed.

As they built their new life together, Anya was very careful about their safety and privacy—neither of which they had in Russia. Anya only wanted a humble home and a humble life to spend with Dmitry, and was careful not to draw too much attention to either of them. They attended their fair share of elegant gatherings with Lily, but for the most part remained out of the public eye. 

Dmitry opened the door to their flat and let Anya step inside. He followed her in as Anya shrugged his coat off. He took the coat from her and hung it up. 

Anya walked across the flat to their bedroom and paused for a moment to look at herself in the mirror before she sat down to take her heels off. 

Dmitry shrugged his suit coat off and set it aside and started work on his vest. 

There was a comfortable silence between them as they transformed from their high society lives back to being just Anya and Dmitry.

Anya’s fingers lingered on the buckle of her shoe as she slid her foot out and carefully rose to her feet. She smoothed her skirt as she stood up straight and paused, letting the evening dressed in silk and champagne last for just a moment longer. 

Dmitry was not quite as sentimental about the process. He loosened his tie and pulled it from his neck and tossed it aside. He looked at himself in the vanity table mirror and combed his fingers through his hair, turning his neatly styled hair unruly. 

Anya stood beside him as she looked in the mirror and pulled the pins from her hair, her golden curls falling down to her shoulders and down her back. 

Dmitry liked her hair better down, it seemed more like Anya to him than a meticulously pinned updo, but he couldn’t complain about the soft curls it left in her hair afterwards. 

Anya turned her back to him and bowed her head, holding her hair over her shoulder so the buttons of her dress were easy to reach. 

Dmitry set his cuff links on the vanity table and turned to unbutton Anya’s dress as she twisted her hair. He took her hair from her hands, his fingers gently brushing over hers as he pulled her hair back over her shoulder and let her curls fall down her back. 

Anya peered back at him with a shy smile as she slipped out of her dress and into a nightdress. She took her hair brush and gently ran it through her hair.

They paused for a moment and looked at themselves in the mirror. It was like a clock had struck midnight and the fairytale was over. 

Anya set the brush down, and ran her fingers through the ends of her hair, gently twisting it in thought.

Dmitry stared at his reflection. This unruly version of himself happened to be the version of himself he liked best. He certainly enjoyed playing dress up in styled hair and a tailored suit for an afternoon with Lily and Vlad, but he was still a Russian street rat at heart. 

It reminded him that under layers of silk and tailored suits, buzzed on champagne, he was just a conman who fell in love with a street sweeper. 

Anya stared at herself in the mirror, her curls tumbling down her shoulders onto her thin frame. She tilted her chin up to hold a regal stature and gazed at herself. 

Dmitry stood beside her, watching her reflection pose and then exhale, dropping her shoulders. He watched as she tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear with her eyes cast away. His lip pulled into a slight smile, a dimple appearing in his cheek. 

He leaned down and his fingers tilted her chin up to press a kiss to her lips. He felt Anya inhale sharply against his lips. Her lips parted and she closed her eyes, gently capturing his lip between her own. It was her gentle nip and pull of his lip that sent chills down his spin. His breath hitched and he exhaled. 

Anya reached up and traced her thumb over his jaw, settling into the dimple in his cheek. 

He smiled against her lips and gently pulled away, his fingers tracing her jaw as he gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. 

Anya reached up and ran her fingers through his hair and kissed his cheek. He followed her bidding as she pulled him to bed with her, a smile on her face. 

A soft laugh escaped his lips as he knew she was still as feral as she had been in the Yusupov palace, still refusing to do things his way. A few months living in Paris wouldn’t be able to stamp out a life of fending for herself. There was still a glimmer of St. Petersburg in her eyes, and no amount of satin dresses or pinned curls could take that from her.

He kissed her again. He liked this Anya the best. He still smiled when he thought of her, just over five feet tall, and chasing ruffians with a stick, or challenging him to be a better man for himself. 

He longed less for the illusion he saw in his reflection, and more for the time to learn to love every part of Anya, from her troubled past to her dreams of the future. 

There was no spell to break between them, because they had chosen to write a fairytale of their very own instead. 


	4. A Good Book

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post-canon. A little soft one shot.

After months of princess lessons, Anya had taken to reading before she went to sleep each night. With a small bookshop around the corner from where she and Dmitry now resided, she couldn’t be more content. 

She had made a routine out of keeping a book beside her half of the bed and quietly read before curling up beside Dmitry. 

Dmitry was used to this habit, but was never quite sure what to do with himself while Anya read. He didn’t want to bother her, but he didn’t have anything equivalent to occupy himself. 

He started with his first attempt at settling down to sleep while she read. Though this was rooted in their nights at the palace, in their new life in Paris this attempt was short lived. In the palace Anya used to sit by the fire while he took to sleeping somewhere across the room. Here, he couldn’t fall asleep with a lamp on by her bed, and she couldn’t turn the light off, or she wouldn’t be able to read. 

So this brought Dmitry to his second attempt. He decided he would try to read, too. It wasn’t his favorite activity, but Anya seemed to get some amount of joy out of it, so he was willing to give it a shot. 

On the first night he tried this, he borrowed a book from Lily that Vlad had recommended. It wasn’t so easy to find books in Russian now that they lived in Paris, but luckily Lily had a library in her flat she was willing to lend from. He wasn’t so sure about it now that he was flipping through the pages, but Vlad had assured him it was a good book. Dmitry was starting to think otherwise. 

Anya, on the other hand, was delighted to see him bring a book to bed. She cozied up beside him with her book and he tried to focus on the book, but struggled through the first few pages. 

He didn’t know how Anya found this relaxing but he would keep up this charade if it meant she would rest her head on his shoulder while she read. Anya would argue he just hadn’t found the right book yet. They agreed to disagree. 

With time it got easier, but he still would prefer to curl up with Anya and go to sleep over trying to occupy his mind while Anya was engrossed in a book. But he was willing to make the compromise if it made her happy.

One night he put his book down early and settled into bed without a word to Anya. Anya’s eyes flicked up to him from her book and she turned to look at him. She ran her fingers through his hair and her fingers grazed his forehead, and touched his cheek. 

“Are you alright?” She asked as she put her book down. She checked him over for any symptoms or signs. “You’re not running a fever.”

“Just tired,” he murmured as he offered a soft smile in return. He let out a groan as he stretched and settled down into bed. 

Anya pressed a kiss to his forehead and ran her fingers through his hair. 

“I’ll just read a couple pages and then we can go to sleep,” she said softly. Anya picked up her book and flipped back to her page. 

“What are you reading?” He asked. 

“Oh, the man who owns the bookshop recommended it to me,” Anya replied. “It’s a collection of stories.”

Dmitry didn’t frequent the bookshop like Anya did, but he could appreciate a good story. 

He rested his head on her chest to take a look at what she was reading and Anya wrapped her arm around him and gently carded her fingers through his hair. 

“Read one to me,” he said softly. 

“Dima,” Anya began. He wasn’t usually so enthused by her hobby of reading. 

“Please,”

She pressed a kiss into his hair and quietly began to read. 

He listened attentively as she held her book in one hand and brushed her fingers through his hair with the other. 

A smile wiped across his lips as he listened to her. 

“What?” Anya paused. 

“Nothing, keep going,” he replied. 

“Did I say something wrong?” Anya asked. Her eyes traced back over the page, trying to find the place he had shifted. “Did I pronounce something wrong?

“No,” Dmitry drew his arm over her waist and pulled her closer. He ran his thumb over her forearm “I just like listening to your voice.”

Anya smiled softly and her cheeks flushed. She was touched at the thought that he was willing to listen just to hear her voice. She ran her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. 

He lazily draped his arm over her waist as she continued reading. He could almost fall asleep right here. 

Anya came to the end of the story, “The end.” 

“Does it really say ‘the end’?” Dmitry popped his head up to look at the page. 

Anya snapped the book shut before he could look, “does it matter?”

He smiled at her, a dimple deepening into his cheek, “not really.”

“It’s the end for tonight,” Anya replied. 

Anya set the book on her nightstand. She turned back to him and brushed his hair back with her fingers and traced her fingers over his features. 

Dmitry closed his eyes. This was the most relaxing way to sit in bed together. 

Anya reached over to turn her lamp off and curled up beside him. He could only wish for every night to end just like this one. 

So instead of trying to sleep while Anya was awake, or trying to get through a book on his own, they settled on Anya reading her book to him. Anya got to read and he got to curl up beside her. And if he was lucky, she would gently run her fingers through his hair or stroke his cheek. It was the perfect compromise. 


End file.
